


Occupy Your Mind

by floatingkhoshekfloats



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Mostly Fluff, Rogue Warden, no warden in particular just...a warden, technically, tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 20:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6769588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingkhoshekfloats/pseuds/floatingkhoshekfloats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soon to be king Alistair deals with a night of insomnia, wishing for the times that used to be and regretting the things he gave up, like the Warden he fought beside, and loved, until his wishing gives way to something much more tangible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Occupy Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nightwing11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightwing11/gifts).



> I wrote this before I finished the game, so there's that. It's just a short cutesy little thing.

Sometimes Alistair couldn’t sleep. Nightmares of past horrors, churned loose by present troubles, sometimes accosted him until even closing his eyes brought on fitfulness. Nights like that, he longed for the days of the Blight, of sleeping in cold tents on hard ground under stars and cloud and smoke and sky. Nights spent half in armor and half out, his sword and shield never more than an arm’s length away, of canned or hunted dinners around the large campfire, companions and comrades scattered at comfortable distances. He missed the tension in the air that always dissipated at the sight of the Warden, so confident and sure. 

If he was honest with himself, that was what he truly missed the nights he couldn’t sleep, his Grey Warden, soft and gentle beneath it all, warm, fierce. The way the firelight glinted off her skin when she’d stare into the flames, lost in thought, dreaming of...what? The home left behind? The path ahead? Him? He liked to think, occasionally, it had been him. Certainly the nights spent in his tent, or in hers, he had been, but he’d never dared ask when she stared off into the fire. Mostly he just hoped they were happy thoughts. 

Alistair left his empty bed, walking out onto the balcony. A gibbous moon hunkered above the trees, throwing a fair amount of silver light across the palace lawns. Somewhere a Mabari hound howled for a moment before quieting. Somewhere farther still a Grey Warden rested. 

He wondered if she was asleep, or if she had nightmares too of dying friends, slaughtered enemies, murdered innocents they’d been too slow, too weak to save. Or maybe she felt the Taint pulling.

“Or maybe I’m thinking of you,” a soft voice said behind him.

Alistair turned swiftly, staring wide-eyed at what must surely be an apparition, a dream, maybe even a demon. Because it was his Grey Warden, his only love.

“What makes you think you know what I was thinking?” he asked, cautiously.

“Because you’ve always worn your thoughts on your face,” she replied.

“Have I? And here I thought I guarded them so well. Well, I see what I a fool I’ve been,” he said in a joking tone that wasn’t entirely joking.

“You’ve never been a fool, Alistair,” the Warden replied, slowly stepping closer.

Alistair held out a hand, stepping back once, though all he wanted was to run into her arms. “Hold on. You could still be some sort of dream or trick or...thing.”

“A thing?” she said, hands on her hips, a faint smile on her lips. “Well, now. I wouldn’t want to be a thing. It sounds so devious.”

“Oh, it is. Very devious. And tricky. And...sneaky.” Maker, if she didn’t sound like the Warden he’d let go. And he sounded like a complete idiot. Though that seemed fairly usual when she was around. He shook his head. “But really. How are you here?”

“I snuck in,” she answered with a shrug. “Scaled the walls, bashed in a few heads, stealthed my way up here. Don’t worry. The guards will be fine in the morning. Probably.” She looked down a moment, lips flattening, then met his eyes with a hesitant smile. “I missed you. I realize I shouldn’t be...I didn’t stay before...and I really ought not to be here, but...I missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted before he realized he’d meant not to.

“Well, at least we can both say we’ve missed each other,” she said. Then backed away. “I’m so sorry. This was a mistake. ‘A note of warning, dear Warden, at the least.’ I should go. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” he said, striding after her.

He meant to stop before reaching her, but instead caught her arm, half turning her toward him and kissing her softly, but firmly against her lips. She exhaled, then turned the rest of the way, clutching his face in her hands as she returned the kiss, his arms encircling her waist. 

At last they broke, still holding one another, meeting the other’s gaze, each searching for something there, though neither could have said what. 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I’m...oddly not,” Alistair answered. “Maker, I should be, but I’m not.” He brushed his thumb across her lips. “Oh, but did I miss you.”

“I...could come back,” she breathed.

“You have.”

“I could stay.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’m sorry I ran.”

“No, I would have too. If you hadn’t already beaten me to it.” He half smiled and they both chuckled, latching onto the humor like they had so many times before. 

“I won’t run this time,” she told him, gently stroking his cheeks. “I promise I won’t. Even if this path means I have to put a crown on my head. To be with you...I’ll do it.”

“I still love you,” Alistair replied.

The Warden smiled. “I never stopped.”


End file.
